


Encore (hold off just a little while longer)

by ashers_kiss



Category: Doctor Who, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dragons, F/F, F/M, Fighting dragons, Remix, just another day in Storeybrooke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 08:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashers_kiss/pseuds/ashers_kiss
Summary: Her gun’s already in her hand, because she’s the sheriff, still, kind of, and this is her job.  “You might wanna stay here,” she tells Clara, because she’s pretty sure that if she tells her to get back in her spaceship with her girlfriend andleave, she’s just going to end up with another casualty on her hands.





	Encore (hold off just a little while longer)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AstroGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Last Stop on the Tour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6648400) by [AstroGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl). 



> Biggest of all thanks to S, who was such a huge help when I had no idea what I was doing.
> 
> [AstroGirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl), I hope you enjoy this. Your original fic was so well put together (as are the rest of your OUAT fics!) that it was hard to see what I could ever add to them. This isn't a bad thing! It just made me work all the harder. :) I absolutely adore the premise of the original, and was determined to do something with it.
> 
> I should point out I'm so far behind on OUAT, though, so timings are vague, to the point of...nebulous. And I haven't actually seen most of Clara's episodes, and none of Me's. Hopefully this works all the same.

Before they even make it halfway down the street, Killian’s there, moving just as quick beside her. “You heard then.”

“I think your whole town heard,” Clara says from Emma’s other side. She sounds – a little out of breath, but in a good way. Exhilarated, if Emma had to pick a word. That should be worrying.

Killian gives Emma one of those looks, the one with the eyebrow, and Emma rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you later.”

“More strays, love?” he murmurs, just low enough for her to hear, and Emma would elbow him if that wasn’t – yup, definitely Leroy running _towards_ them, followed by thick, dark curls of what looks like some pretty serious smoke. “What did you set on fire?” Emma yells, because this, this is definitely one of the last things she needs. But the look Leroy gives her is incredulous, if a bit wide-eyed.

“You’re kidding me, right?” He doesn’t stop, just keeps running, and there’s another crash, closer, with a low rumble right behind it. “I didn’t wake it!”

“Wake – ” Killian repeats, but then there’s another rumble, more of a groan, and oh, Emma _remembers_ that noise.

Her gun’s already in her hand, because she’s the sheriff, still, kind of, and this is her job. “You might wanna stay here,” she tells Clara, because she’s pretty sure that if she tells her to get back in her spaceship with her girlfriend and _leave_ , she’s just going to end up with another casualty on her hands. Bad enough with Killian – having Killian – “Don’t suppose I can convince you either?” she asks, even though she knows the answer, even though he’s carefully following her step, right beside her as everyone else streams in the other direction. (Even though she can hear the scrape of heel behind her that means Clara’s paid her just about as much attention as Killian has.)

He grins at her, something bright and sweet, pulling an answering tug in Emma’s chest. “Not a chance, darling,” he says, and this, Emma reminds herself, would be a really, really bad time to kiss him.

Then Clara makes a surprised, shaky sort of “O-oh” sound, and Emma spins, stomach sinking as the dragon rounds the corner.

*

“I don’t think it’s fully grown yet,” Clara says, ducking back behind the car with them. Emma lets go of her sleeve, fingers aching as she straightens them, too ready to pull her back.

“Comforting,” Killian says, because Emma’s mouth is too full of ash. (She should have checked for a nest, why didn’t she, why didn’t she _think_ – ) The look Clara gives him is so familiar, though, Emma feels laughter roll through her chest.

“I was _going to say_ , I think maybe if we can get it in a soft spot – ” She hefts her own gun, more powerful than anything Emma’s ever seen at that calibre, but she still shakes her head.

“No.” She risks another look over her shoulder, through the windows. She’s pretty sure it’s one of Regina’s cars, which is about the only comfort she’s taking from this situation right now. “I’ve done this before, we need a sword.”

There’s silence, for a moment, while she cranes her neck, tries to keep all of the tail in her sight. “You’ll need to tell me about that one later,” Killian says, slightly strangled, and Emma whips her head round so fast, her ponytail hits her in the face.

“I did,” she insists, and Killian just lifts both his eyebrows.

“I think I’d remember you taking on a _dragon_.”

“I – ”

“ _There_ you are,” a new voice says, someone dropping down beside Clara, and Emma only just registers “young” and “another freaking accent” before she has her gun aimed right at her face, to Clara’s obvious disapproval and the new girl’s amusement.

At least she’s not the only one, she thinks, because that’s Killian’s knife – “ _Dagger_ , Emma, for God’s sake – ” resting just under the girl’s chin.

“Oh my God, will the pair of you _pack it in_ and put those away,” Clara hisses, deliberately, pointedly wrapping her arm around the girl’s waist, and the parts of Emma’s brain locked on _dragon_ and _fire_ and _smoke inhalation_ pause for a second, let things tumble into place. “You’re so paranoid, honestly.”

“To be fair, sweetheart, I’ve met their mayor,” the girl says, and there’s that laughter again, scratching at Emma’s throat like smoke.

She lowers her gun, says, “You must be Me,” and doesn’t miss the line developing between Killian’s eyes, or the sweep of the dragon’s tail.

The girl – Me, she guesses – smiles. “And you’re Emma Swan.” It’s not a question, or even an introduction, just a fact, and Emma hears _immortal Viking_ all over again. Despite the heat, there’s a cold shiver working its way down her spine.

“Emma?” Killian asks. His dagger hasn’t wavered, not once, but his hook nudges her free hand, and she has to swallow, squeeze his wrist tight before she can say, “It’s okay.”

Me at least waits until Killian’s lowered the blade to say, “This might be our fault,” and Clara groans, droops until her forehead can hit Me’s shoulder with a pretty solid _thunk_. Neither of them seem to notice.

“You do surprise me,” Killian says, dry, and Emma squeezes again, until the edge of leather cuts into her skin and he shifts against her side. Me’s smile takes on a sharper, more knowing edge.

“We can fix it, though,” she says, and pulls a sword from behind her head like it’s nothing.

Hell, maybe it _is_ to immortal Vikings, Emma thinks as her mouth drops, just slightly, and Killian sucks in a quick, silent breath. How would she know?

Clara, however, doesn’t seem quite as impressed as them. “Where did you get that?” she demands, pushing up on to her knees, and there’s suddenly a bright pink flush flooding Me’s cheeks. “We had a clear-out!”

“I hid it!”

_“Where?”_

“We live in a _TARDIS_ – ”

“Uhh…” Emma lets go of Killian to grab them both, tug them down as the dragon’s tail sweeps just over their heads. She’s had that look from Killian a lot – normally when she forgets to check her messages, she’s getting awfully used to it – but it’s definitely something, to get the same look from an ancient Viking. Maybe it’s a history thing. “Could I borrow that?”

*

The dragon, like Me predicted, disappears in what Emma’s determined is _not_ a puff of smoke, thank you very much Killian, once she manages to stick it with Me’s very shiny, very _heavy_ sword.

The property damage, unfortunately, does not.

“At least it was just the docks?” Clara tries before Emma can signal her away from it, and Killian winces. Emma pats him on the arm and tries to shift the sword in order to pass it back to Me, who’s watching her with one of those smiles that on…certain individuals, would creep the fuck out of Emma.

“Keep it,” Me says, tilting her head. “It suits you.”

Not for the first time, Emma gapes at her. “Oh, I – I couldn’t, we’ve got – ” How to explain that even without her boyfriend’s collection, there are far, _far_ too many swords in her life for comfort?

“Oh, please do,” Clara says, and Me doesn’t quite roll her eyes, but it’s close. “It’s one less thing I have to find in a back room somewhere.”

Killian takes her hand just as she’s about to protest some more, says her name and only presses a kiss to her palm once she looks at him. “Stop being rude and turning down such lovely presents.” It would be innocent enough, really, coming from him, except for the light in his eyes that makes something in her gut clench, hot and eager. She strokes fingertips through his scruff instead, pretends not to notice when he shivers, and says, “Yeah, all right.” When she looks up, both of them are wearing matching, knowing smirks, and Emma can feel her own blush start. “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say a _word_ ,” Clara promises, while Me mimes zipping her lips. Emma’s not convinced, opens her mouth to tell them just that –

“Mom!”

Somehow, sometimes, she still forgets, forgets Henry’s not the little kid who knocked on her door all those years ago, that he’s as tall as her now, almost taller (and she still doesn’t get where that _comes_ from, none of them are particularly tall, really, except maybe David). It’s kind of hard to forget when he barrels into her, arms going so tight around her she almost can’t breathe, and Killian only keeps hold of her hand to keep her on her feet. “Hey kid,” she says, breathy, and Henry just squeezes tighter.

Later, once Henry’s finally let her go and introductions have been made, they retreat to Granny’s, because Emma’s not going to risk pissing off Ruby or Granny, and, as Clara reminds Me, they’re out of milk. Again. (The way her eyes shine as they walk, drinking in the town in a way Emma doesn’t think she’s ever done, belies the excuse, but Me seems happy enough to let it slide, to walk with their fingers twined so close together it’s hard to tell which is which.)

Besides, Emma’s learned it’s better to make herself easily available after this kind of shit. Even if it’s only to deal with Regina and her car.

“So are you guys here long?” Henry asks, once Killian’s waved away Me’s offer to pay and headed up to the counter, because he’s a good kid with good manners, and he’s barely even looked at Emma’s new sword, even if most of the shiny _is_ hidden in the plain black scabbard Me produced. (That, Emma knows, will come later, when they’re home and she’s had a _bath_ and Henry’s patience has worn all the way down.)

Clara looks to Me for a moment, and Emma might have some expertise in the area, but anyone could read the excitement on her face. Me just smiles, playing with the bracelet of silver wires Clara’s still wearing, so it’s Clara who says, with an almost defiant headtoss, “Yeah. Yeah, we think we might.” She looks over at Emma, and Emma gives her a lazy salute that, though he’d never admit it, would horrify Killian down to his very bones.

After all, more backup can’t hurt. Especially not when they bring her such nice swords.


End file.
